


Proof of Love

by hanyou_elf



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The best proof of love is trust." Dr. Joyce Brothers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of Love

**Author’s Notes:** Originally written for the [CM Kink Meme, the 6th](http://ansera.livejournal.com/54137.html) for this prompt: Getting Spencer used to being touched and kissed, one step at a time.

 _”The best proof of love is trust.” Dr. Joyce Brothers_

Spencer has never liked to be touched. He doesn’t like to physical contact. Derek has never understood the put-off nature of his younger co-worker, but he can understand it too. He knows that sometimes things happen that makes a person want to hide away forever. To forget what it’s like to be human enough to touch another person.

After Chicago, after _Hankel,_ Derek decides that he needs to change things between them. Spencer needs him. And he needs the surprisingly perfect touchstone that is Spencer. And Spencer to Derek’s relief, agrees.

It starts with holding hands. Platonic, fingers together palm wrapped against palm. Derek is reminded of elementary and middle schools, when he was just learning how much could be conveyed from touches. Of careful hands held together in innocence. He likes the feel of comfort. He likes the way it reminds him of peace. Careful paces that make him feel safe with Spencer.

Spencer fights him. Every step of the way, Spencer fights him. Hands are not held for long, minutes at a time. It takes him almost a month to get Spencer to hold his hand for an hour. But when he does, Derek doesn't deny the rush of pride and happiness that flows through him.

It progresses to lacing fingers together. Pinkies first, because Spence is a man who appreciates symbols, rather than overt displays. Spence likes the slow and steady progression into what could be more. It takes Derek another month of slowly adding finger by finger to get Spence to lace their fingers together completely. He likes the small callouses on Spence's hands. The rough skin from pens and paper and books. From the guns he's meticulously learning to shoot with deadly accuracy.

It's almost six months to get Spence to cuddle with him. They start sitting on the couch or close in chairs, holding hands, fingers laced together. The slowly shift closer to each other, and Derek starts them out on sitting shoulder to shoulder, hands laced together and resting in their laps, knee to knee. For a long time, Spence is rigid and stiff. He can't relax that close to another man. To another person. He doesn't want to relax and risk the opportunity of being hurt again. Derek understands that, and he accepts it. So when Spence finally curls into him, finally relaxes enough to lean into Derek's warmth, to prompt the arm around his shoulder, Derek feels like he could shout with joy.

It’s nearly nine months after he started getting used to careful and intentional touches with Spencer that he gets one of the greatest rushes of pride. He’s sitting on the couch, one hand in his lap and the other thrown lazily across the back of the couch. Spencer has had a key to his house since long before they began whatever they’re relationship is. Spencer has been his closest emergency contact since his first year in the BAU. So he’s not surprised when Spencer lets himself into the home.

What surprises him is how easily Spencer falls onto the couch beside him and curls into him. As if he had never had any hesitation at all toward touch.

Derek drops his arm around lithe shoulders and pulls Spencer tight. This is a gift. And he’s grateful for it. He doesn’t know what to call them, if they even need to be called anything other than best friends, but he likes what they are. He likes having this intimacy. It’s powerful.

Derek doesn’t push for more. He recognizes how hard it has to be for Spencer. How much he’s put of himself on the line to get to this point in their relationship. And he likes the stability he has with Spencer. He can’t remember the last time that he felt so calm. So _complete._

He enjoys the time they have together. The chances they have for this quiet and down time. And for a year, nothing changes. They spend more time together then they do apart. When Spencer needs to ground himself through his detox and his sobriety, he falls against Derek, hands laced together and head on Derek’s shoulder. When Derek needs the comfort, the protection that he so rarely gets, He finds Spencer and they end up together, curled on Spencer’s old but comfortable couch.

They progress from there slowly. After Spencer gets his one year token, Derek encourages Spencer to spend the night. He doesn’t take them to the bed. His couch is huge. It’s comfortable and wide enough to fit two adult men cuddled together. And Derek wants to reward Spencer. He’s fought long and hard for the peace and the personal acclaim that comes with getting his sobriety coin.

It starts out easily enough. Spencer cuddles him on the couch, his long legs pulled to his chest as he leans into Derek’s warm body. Spencer is a comfortable weight against his side. And slowly, carefully, Derek stretches them out. Spencer is pliant in his sleepy state. He allows Derek to lay him down on his side, curled into himself protectively. His long arms are folded into his chest. His eyes are closed, as if he could never doubt Derek. And perhaps, the long months of proving himself to Spencer are paying off.

They sleep like that. Derek’s head is pillowed on the arm of the couch, a throw pillow under his neck to support him. He’s on his side, an arm under Spencer’s head and the other over the lithe waist. Spencer is curled into himself. His knees are folded just enough that his knees hang over the edge of the couch, his long arms are curled into his chest, fingers teasing the tips of Derek’s fingers.

When Derek wakes up to the comfort of having Spencer in his arms, protected completely against the world, he revels in the bright blossoming of contentment and love. He shifts his hand enough that he can lace their fingers together before he tightens his hold on Spencer.

He doesn’t move when Spencer fidgets as he wakes. He watches the way awareness comes to Spencer’s body. He tenses immediately the moment he wakes. Its long minutes of watching him breathing slowly and deliberately, calming himself down. Derek loves it. He likes feeling like he’s done his job when Spencer’s body relaxes and they practically fall together.

“I did not intend to sleep here,” Spencer says softly, turning his head enough to look up at Derek.

Derek smiles. He had intended it. And he’s relieved that it worked. Spencer looks more relaxed then he has in a long time. He leans forward just enough to press his forehead to Spencer’s. It feels like time has slowed down, like it’s just this minute. He and Spencer are wrapped together in a moment of peace, contentment so unknown to either of them.

Derek can’t control himself. He tilts his head and closes the space between them, bringing their lips together. It’s soft and chaste, but it’s perfect. If this is all they’ll have, this is all he’ll ever need.

 

“Derek?” Spencer asks. His brow furrows in confusion and he adjusts so they’re lying facing each other. Derek feels relief that he’s not hard.

“I love you,” Derek confesses. “I want _this._ ” he sighs as he gestures at their bodies with their hands.

“I… I…” Spencer falters.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just… I want you to know so you can decide if this is what you want to keep coming for. I love you, Spencer. Everything about you. But if that’s going to make you uncomfortable here, in these moments with me, then we don’t have to anymore. I’m not… I refuse to lose you.”

He doesn’t expect Spencer’s reaction. He doesn’t expect the brush of lightly chapped lips against his cheeks or the clenching of fingers in his hand. “I don’t mind. I’m okay with this.”


End file.
